


Bodies Laying In The Grass (some are murdered, some are picnicking)

by ephemeralstar



Series: maybe sprout wings [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: 4+1 Things, Canon Non-Binary Character, Gen, Swearing, ends angsty, everyone in the party shares 2 braincells but neither yin nor dante have them at any given moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 02:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19938757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/ephemeralstar
Summary: or; four times dante poses the same mis-remembered horse question, and the one time it matters.





	Bodies Laying In The Grass (some are murdered, some are picnicking)

**Author's Note:**

> Dante's PC once asked me 'would you rather fight 1000 horse sized children or one child sized horse' and it's been a running joke ever since, but it's recently had some emotional weight behind it, believe it or not.

"Hey, would you rather fight a thousand horse-sized children, or one child-sized horse?" Dante has been trying and failing to meditate on their portion of the balcony for the past five minutes. Yin, who's drinking spiced, non-alcoholic cider, leaning against the banister a few feet away from them, pauses where he's taking a sip.

"What?" It's more of a grunt, really, but Dante cracks their eyes open, and levels a look at Yin that's far too serious for the situation.

"I asked, would you rather fight a thousand horse-sized children-"

"- or one child-sized horse, so I did hear you correctly." Yin muses for a moment, before taking another sip. "You know that's nowhere near how that question is supposed to go."

"Does it matter? Just give us an answer," Dante sighs, standing. They've been trying to put some of their rudimentary druidic teachings to use, and the party's monk had suggested meditation might help. So far, in the rooms above Reggie's tavern, there wasn't enough quiet for Dante to get the hang of meditation, and after all, they'd always been far more instinctual when it had come to their powers; they were finding it far harder to put conscious thought into their practice than to let their powers come naturally.

"Obviously a child-sized horse." 

Rook, Lucifern, and Theren all agreed with the half-orc, though Rook refused to fight it, to absolutely no-one surprise, while Ishra'nel and Vilmak were delighted at the prospect of punting a thousand horse-sized children. Havok wasn't interest in fighting either one, he'd much rather let the children loose on the world to wreak havoc on the world (his own pun, entirely intended), and Alera _is_ a child, and Dante didn't want to ask her because it didn't feel fair. 

* * *

The party's trying to sneak through the back streets of the city, trying to stay out of sight as they look for a Dwarven woman who's gone missing. They've come to a crack in the stone wall big enough for a large Dwarf to slip through, and a reasonably tall humanoid to wriggle through if they bent and twisted enough. Yin, however, a seven-foot-three Half-Orc built like a battle ship, is the last one to attempt to go through, and though he's not surprised that he's stuck, he will admit it's irritating. He's got one arm and a head through, but the other is stuck, wedged in beside his torso. 

"Hey," Dante had volunteered to stay behind with him, but so far they'd just sat themselves on the other side of the wall, "I didn't know you wore your hair in braids, weather boy." Dante mused, as Yin wriggled more, only managing to wedge himself in tighter, pulling his hood from his head. Before Yin could get a word in edge-wise, Dante was running their hand over the tight braids that covered the half-orc's scalp, absent-mindedly petting his head. "Would you rather fight a thousand horse-sized children, or one child-sized horse?"

"Stop fucking patting me," Yin growled, trying to swat at them, but from this angle he couldn't reach. Dante hummed, retracting their hand and pulling out one of their daggers to dig distractedly in the dirt.

"'cos I've been thinking about it, like really thinking about it, can you _imagine_ facing off against _one thousand_ horse-sized children, like _warhorse_ sized children?" They paused for a moment. "I could take 'em." They muttered, matter-of-factly, stabbing at the dirt as if to prove a point.

"No you absolutely could not," snapping, Yin finally conceded defeat. He sagged where he was almost doubled over, resting between the walls. "A thousand warhorse-sized kids? What age are we talking here?"

"Does it matter? What do you even know about various child ages anyways? What child experience do you have apart from being one like a thousand years ago?"

"I'm thirty-two, Dante, don't be fucking rude."

"Like, in orc years?" The Genasi frowned for a moment, and Yin let out an actual groan of frustration, using his one free hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Like in goddamn regular-ass years, ya fucking teenager!" He exclaimed, and Dante couldn't help but laugh at his outburst, the sound filling the alley, bright and loud, and their hair burns bright with their amusement, lighting up the two of them. It's a familiar warmth, and Yin knows he can't stay mad. Until it hits him. "Hey, can't you cast _Stone Shape_?"

* * *

"Would you rather," Dante begins, staring down at the corpse of the woman they had accidentally electrocuted, who Yin was currently trying to bring her back through divine intervention, "fight a thousand horse-sized children, or one child-sized horse?" 

Yin, who's been sitting cross-legged on the other side of the body, holding his holy symbol and praying quietly, actually stops. When his eyes open, he levels a glare at Dante.

"What?!" The Genasi crows, grinning wide, "I thought your answer might have changed!"

Yin lets the silence stretch between him, his eyes falling closed as his grip tightens on the pendant around his neck. Dante leans in, knowing already that he's doing a bit, that he'll humour them, indulge them in their childishness.

"You know it's meant to be a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck, right?" He finally breaks the silence. Dante blows a loud raspberry. Yin opens his eyes just to roll them.

" _Boo_ , always take a hundred duck-sized horses; there's not that many and I'm made of fire; where's the challenge?" They hummed, leaning back, propping themselves up on their hands. "So?"

"So _what_?" Yin replied, gently placing his hand on the corpse's forehead, "I'm trying to drag this woman's soul kicking and screaming from the Astral Plane, can you not distract me right now?" The scars on his face were starting to glow faintly, and it was all Dante could do to sigh with defeat.

"Ugh, _whatever._ "

* * *

Wickett is an... uncomfortable fit within the party. At least in the part of the party where Yin's found his niche. She's painfully blunt when she speaks, voice high and almost always bored in it's inflection. But where Yin's blunt with little social success, people seem to respect Wickett for it; he barely trusts her, but he trusts Havok's judge of character, so when she uses _Truesight_ , and tells them there's invisible children following them, he'll believe her.

They're making their way through the city of the dead, on the hunt for a Lich, and Yin's disconnected from his faith for fear of a Holy War. Even with Rook by his side, he's uncomfortable, the world here feels too quiet, and knowing there's people around that he can't see, but can see him with startling clarity, it puts him on edge.

"Hey, are they still behind us?" Dante's voice breaks the silence; they weren't exactly sneaking, they'd given up that pretense after arguing at the wall where they'd climbed into the the city, but Wickett, with gold, dragon-slitted eyes, looks over her shoulder, looks past the party, and gives a nod, her expression flat. Dante hummed in acknowledgement, nodding as if they'd just been given some sage wisdom, before speaking up again.

"Would you rather fight a thousand horse-sized children, _and they're invisible_ , or one child-sized horse?"

Yin, without even realising, relaxes, actually smiles.

"How angry is the horse, and is it invisible too?" He finds himself responding, the question taking his mind off of his own discomfort. Dante clucks their tongue thoughtfully in their mouth before answering.

"The horse is furious, _but_ definitely visible."

"Then still the horse."

* * *

The party is dead silent as they return home, and isn't that a cruel irony. Even Havok and Ishra'nel are silent, and that may be the most telling part of it all. When they get back to the camp they'd set up where their tavern was being built, they scatter amongst the tents. Invisible children have followed them home, and Yin feels like the only one not on the verge of falling apart, but he's at a loss as to how to care for them. He can barely care for Nel, the boy he's barely known for a night, the boy asleep in his arms, the boy he won't let go of. He knows he should find Velora, Dante's daughter, who had to watch her parent die at the hands of a _fucking ghost_ of all things, of a single moment of poor, but well intentioned judgement, but Velora's too quick for him, trying to find her own moment, her own place, alone to process everything the night had wrought on them. So he focuses on Nel, on keeping his grip steady as he settles in to sit beside where Rook is marking out space for the _Resurrection_ ritual. He focuses on the fact that they've gotten rid of the Lich, and not that part of the Lich killed his best friend, and that their lifeless corpse was sitting in the middle of the ritual space. 

He breathes deeply in the night air, gently holds the pendant which had now found a home around Nel's neck, and he prays silently. 

It takes an hour, a full hour, and Yin finds himself in a meditative state while Rook is muttering beside him, chanting and praying. Theren is resting, silent and vigilant where he's leaned against a tree, people watching, alert as the nights' events replay themselves in his mind. Yin can hear the sounds of Havok working to prepare food, and apparently Wickett and Ishra'nel are getting on like a house on fire, which is probably a poor choice of words considering their penchant for chaos, and somewhere, in one of the tents, he hears the heavy, consistent snoring of Vilmak.

Soon, he knows, he hopes, he _prays_ , Dante will come back, will wake up, and together they can begin to recover. Rebuild who they all were before the night tore them apart.

Nel mumbles softly in his sleep, Rook goes quiet as the ritual comes to a close, and several feet away, Dante stirs.

Dante is a mess of newly jagged edges and fresh wounds that no-one else can see, and they hear the footsteps of the other children, and act on instinct - Dante is nothing if not a creature of instinct when it comes down to it. It's always been a part of their charm, the balance of how unapologetically they give in to their Id, and how often their Id demands they protect the people they care about; it's there in the way they regard their daughter, Velora, the dragon girl they rescued, fighting tooth and nail against their own to keep her safe. 

But even after only a few hours, what felt like a few weeks to Dante, Hell has wrought havoc on the Genasi, and family, friends, and security feel like a foreign concept. Nothing feels real, _everything_ is the enemy, and a blast of _Sunbeam_ hits the invisible children at the flick of Dante's wrist, cutting through the dead of night and scorching them where they stand. 

The world demands suffering, it always has, and even to have Dante back is like swimming against the current. They've done terrible things tonight, made deals they didn't quite understand, and the world demands it's suffering. 

It all moves in a blur, Yin and Rook save the children but then there's fire, and yelling, and if Nel wakes up now they're bound to lose so much more. Yin passes the sleeping child to Rook, the only way he can find to defuse the situation at hand as Rook and Ishra'nel have found themselves in a screaming match bordering on physical confrontation, and Dante looks like they're about to bolt, like a cornered animal, wild-eyed, almost foaming at the mouth with anger. 

Their hair is black. A thick, black flame that sits heavy and dark atop their head. 

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's me, it's Yin." So much has happened it's a wonder his voice is so level, but he approaches like he would a frightened animal, never getting to close. Dante still backs up.

" _Fuck off_." He's heard them angry on a number of occasions, but this is new, this is dangerous, this is Dante who feels like they're fighting for survival back in Hell. " _Fuck off, or prove to me you're real_." There's a desperation in their voice, but they let themselves be gently coerced away from the centre of camp, off to the side by the treeline. Yin sighs deeply.

"I don't know how to do that; how can I-"

"Say something to me that only you would know." Dante demands.

A million thoughts blow through Yin's mind, the offer to teach them sailing, their mutual past as glorified slaves, their quick shared amusement only hours ago about becoming parents so quickly, to Nel and Velora respectively. But in an instant, he knows exactly what he needs to say, the one thing that no self respecting demon would ever think of if they were trying to impersonate him, something only Dante could appreciate. 

They're wary at the sight of the smile he's trying bite back, but he can't help himself. It's actually ridiculous. _Fuck, he hopes this works._

"Dante, would you rather fight a thousand horse-sized children, or one child sized horse?"

It hangs in the air much longer than he's comfortable with, but Dante's expression turns to one of surprise, before it melts to almost painful relief. They don't reach out to him, can't bring themselves to just yet, but they sag against the tree, whole body shaking.

"Fuck, of course it's you, _of course it's you_." 

He doesn't step forward, just takes a seat opposite the tree, calm and cross-legged, and smiling. Dante slides their back down the tree to sit opposite him, knees drawn up to their chest, laughing, laughing so hard it's almost manic, because they don't cry but their body craves release and _god_ if this isn't close enough.

"Fuck, weather boy, _a thousand_ \- fuck, _that's good_ , that's damn fucking good, of course it's you." And even if they're not sure about where they are - it looks like their home base, _tent city,_ the future _Cloak and Stagger_ , but the demons had wrecked their psyche in only a few short hours - they are sure of Yin. That's all that matters at this moment in time. 

They're sure of Yin.


End file.
